


Watching the Enemy

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Salamander (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Enemies to Lovers, First Time, Kissing, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Rough Kissing, Roughness, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 04:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14887322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: After a few racy encounters, Mrs. Rasenberg finally books a hotel room for herself and Gerardi. He needs info from her, but finds he is not willing to sleep with her to get it. Much to his surprise, he is being monitored by Cell P-9 much more closely than he imagined, and Adams is watching the whole spectacle from next door. Much to his surprise once again, after storming out into the corridor, Paul ends up in Vic's room instead and Vic ends up on his knees. Set during Season One.





	Watching the Enemy

"Thanks for the photos," said Paul, bitterly, as he held them aloft. They were incriminating photographs which showed himself and Mrs. Rasenberg engaged in a kiss in a nearby cafe. Cell P-9, the secret organisation who were running this show, were holding them as collateral against him, to ensure that he would do as he was told. And now the aforementioned woman had booked a hotel room here, so that the pair of them could continue their affair.

"You're the one who lit the fire. Now keep it burning. Or have you _run out_ of fuel?" he saw Adams reflected in the men's room mirror, before eventually turning around to face him.

"Kiss my arse, pal," he patted him on the shoulder.

Gerardi was obviously rattled and Adams took great delight in being the one to shake the cage. There was something _about_ Paul - something which just _excited_ him. There was something of the past about him - he was like a cop of _old_ , who didn't bother with the rules and who just liked to get things done, with little care for structure and government. He was unpredictable and, dare Vic admit it, _sexy_. When Persigal had told Paul that Mrs. Rasenberg was in _love_ with him, Adams had thought that it was _no wonder_ \- who _could_ be immune to Gerardi's charms? And so here he was now, _teasing_ him as a form of flirting, like a child still in the schoolyard.

But even _he_ couldn't have imagined - not even in his _wildest_ dreams - well, alright - maybe _just_ \- that, within the hour, it would be _himself_ in a hotel room with Gerardi, on his _knees_ with his hands around the back of his partner's legs, having Paul _dominating_ him, barking orders and demanding he please him - with the burning sting of embarrassment that would come after having Paul slap his hard dick around his cheeks, wiping the pre-come against his face, and the choking sensation which would form at the back of Vic's throat after having been _forced_ to take Gerardi's erect length fully into his mouth and suck on it, eventually swallowing all he had to give. As if he wasn't to _love_ every minute of it.

The last thing the pair of them did in the gents toilets was tussle, physical contact which Vic had _relished_ , their faces inches away from one another and almost poised to kiss. Adams had warned Gerardi that if he did not appease Mrs. Rasenberg then every one of them would be in danger, including Paul's own family. But Paul merely threatened him and left in a huff.

When Adams had told him that Mrs. Rasenberg had booked Room 219, it occurred to him that, most _unusually_ for the overzealous Gerardi, he had not asked him how he knew the _exact_ room number she had booked at the hotel. But, then again, _no_ information was out of reach for Cell P-9. Under Persigal's orders, he had told him to forget his high principles and do what he needed to do in order to extract the information they required from Mrs. Rasenberg. Paul was expected to meet with the older lady's amorous demands, even if it meant cheating on his wife in the process. Paul had _clearly_ been hesitant.

Again, the bizarre nature of this case must have clouded Paul's judgement, for not only did he not ask how Adams knew of the room number or, indeed, the whole _sordid_ encounter, but he didn't even wonder how P-9 might be keeping tabs on him - to make sure he would actually go _through_ with it - or whether there would be any surveillance in the room. Had they have _wanted_ to, they could have used _any_ of the photos or video footage to blackmail him. But Gerardi didn't give it a second thought, far too pre-occupied by the task which lied ahead. He chewed his nails and spat them out onto the floor as he paced down the corridor.

Luckily for him - in the sense that there were no hidden cameras - they had only stationed Vic in the neighbouring room, monitoring the activity therein. So _that_ was how he knew the room number - because he, himself, was booked into Room 220. Luckily for Paul, _perhaps_ \- but even _luckier_ for Adams that Gerardi did not know he was watching them through the wall, as he probably would have strung him up by the balls - thought the bearded man, with some concern.

Still, he was only doing his duty. It was nothing personal towards Paul; it was simply his job. That was what he kept telling himself - that it was nothing _personal_ \- when he was sat there on his little stool in the next room on, a _voyeur,_ almost frothing at the mouth at the thought of watching Paul and Mrs. Rasenberg excitedly ripping off one another's clothes before _fucking_ , hard and rampant on the bed, like _animals._ Gerardi hadn't even opened the door yet and Adams was feeling _beyond_ aroused.

He inched closer to the spyhole in the wall, which was like something out of a spy movie - but one step up from poking two holes through the eyes of a portrait and sticking your face up to it - _this_ one was clandestine and had been fitted behind one of the vents. Upon seeing the doorknob slowly twist and Gerardi finally enter, Vic then donned his headphones so that he could hear the pick-up from the several microphones which were dotted around the room.

It was over, _practically_ , before it had even begun. Paul hadn't been able to fully go through with it and that was no real surprise to either Adams or Persigal.

The _first_ surprise had been, for Adams, seeing how _raw_ and bestial Gerardi could be, sensually and yet quite dangerously wrapping his leather belt around Mrs. Rasenberg's neck like that, as if to strangle her dead, before kissing her _passionately_ \- the scene being so erotically charged that Vic could not stop himself from becoming _painfully_ hard at the sight.

It embarrassed him to have become so besotted with a colleague as he was with Paul. But the ex-policeman was so brusque, with that killer smirk of his and 'don't give a fuck' attitude, that the _combination_ of him being so _out of reach_ emotionally (there hadn't been so much as a _glimmer_ of interest when Adams had apologised for restraining his wife and Sophie) and his rugged handsome features had nearly brought the P-9 agent to distraction with infatuation. And he had yearned for _some_ time to _feel_ what Mrs. Rasenberg had _felt;_ Paul's jagged, grey beard scraping against his skin like harsh wire wool as they kissed, repeatedly, _passionately_.

And, on one hand, he was deeply disappointed _not_ to have seen him naked, aroused and indulging in coitus with the minister's wife - on the other, he knew he would only have felt _envious_ not to have been in the room with Paul _himself_.

The _second_ surprise was to be for _Paul,_ as he had absolutely _no_ notion that he was being spied upon. He slammed the hotel room door wide open and proceeded to storm towards the exit. When Adams chased after him, he had forgotten one vital thing - to close _his_ door behind him. When Gerardi saw that the door to Room 220 was open, it was without doubt that all hell would break loose. Because Paul wasn't stupid - he knew all of the _shitty tricks_ P-9 were capable of. He chased Vic back into the room and sealed them both inside, locking the door with the key and casting it aside with anger.

"You were _watching_ us? For fuck's sake, Adams," he scowled.

"It isn't _like_ that, Paul," Vic protested. Oh, but it _was_ like that - Vic was under orders from his superiors to keep a watchful eye on Paul and he didn't have to convince _any_ of them that he was here for any _other_ reason but to fulfil his role as an agent of Cell P-9. But convincing _himself_ and convincing _Paul_ was another matter. "I have a job to do," he said.

Savagely grabbing Vic by his suit, Paul Gerardi lifted him forwards and shook him vigorously, "It's sick - _that's_ what it is! You're all _sick!_ " Seeing all of the equipment set up by the wall, it was now very easy to see where the spyhole was. He pointed through to the other side, where Mrs. Rasenberg was still slumped, crying, tangled in the sheets, half-naked with her large bosoms on show and the other half of her still dressed in lacy red lingerie. "You like what you _see?_ " he questioned, snarling, dragging Vic towards it with his other hand.

Adams turned away. Of course, she was an attractive woman, but how could he say to Paul that it wasn't actually her he was _interested_ in at all?

"Then why don't _you_ go in there and _finish_ what I _started -_ eh? That poor woman is _heartbroken._ Fuck - she needs _somebody_ to love her, goddammit!" Gerardi may have had to let her down, but it didn't mean he didn't have a conscience - leading women on was _not_ his style - it was purely _circumstance_ which had forced him stop. He didn't want her to think that he was a monster, but he _couldn't_ cheat on his wife with another woman. Not here - not like _this_ \- _not_ for the sake of garnering information for Persigal and his goons. Not even if she _did_ have an affair with Carl Cassimon all of that time ago. He glared at Adams.

"Because--" he started, unsure of whether he should say what he _wanted_ to say. "Because... she's not my _type_ ," he whispered, looking Paul up and down.

Gerardi raised his eyebrows, " _Adams?_ " He realised that he still had his hands knotted in the folds of his suit. Subconsciously, he had seemed to have been drawing him closer with his fists, as if angling for their lips to meet. Or perhaps Vic had managed to bring himself closer in the _meantime_. Either way, they were standing together now, so near that Gerardi could see the pupils dilating in Adams' nervous eyes; so physically close that they could feel one another's _excitement_ , cocks tangibly pressing against one another at awkward angles.

"When I was looking through the spyhole," Vic gasped so quietly, it was almost silent, "I was never looking at _her_ \- only looking at _you_ , Paul... I could not help myself. You're _so_..."

Initially, Gerardi remained stony-faced, but a smile began to creep across his face. God, he was one hard bastard to read.

"The thing _is_ ," he started rather aggressively and Adams flinched. "... Is that I've got this _massive_ problem right now," Gerardi broke into a grin. "And I just don't know _what_ to do with it. Can you suggest anything, _Adams?_ " he asked the other man, his gaze fixed upon _his_ gaze _all_ of the while. It was only natural that the ex-policeman would still be so _worked up_ , given the kind of situation he had just been in.

"It's not really _cheating_ if it's with another man," came the suggestion.

"Is that so?" the grey-haired man queried, a sarcastic tone to his voice.

"It's not the _same_ ," he clarified. "How could Sarah be jealous of _me?_ If you understand what I mean." Vic wasn't a gorgeous, busty blond with all of the trimmings; he was a balding middle-aged P-9 agent and, whilst he may have been talking himself down a little - he certainly wasn't the _ugliest_ man he'd ever seen - he hoped that the more he convinced Paul of this fact, the more likely he was to believe it.

Somehow, Paul _did_ feel differently this time - perhaps Adams was sort-of right. Though he couldn't even _begin_ to guess what Sarah's reaction might be if she knew how he was feeling right now, he felt it would be closer to laughter or disgust than it _ever_ would be to jealousy, thinking of Paul lusting after such an average-looking _male_ colleague. And the thought of having Vic being subservient to him genuinely _was_ making him harder than anything else in the last ten minutes had, and that really was saying _something_.

"Persigal will know something is up as soon as Frau Rasenberg comes down to reception," he lamented.

"Persigal won't know _anything_ until I tell him," Vic smiled at Paul, brandishing his walkie-talkie.

Gerardi seemed to bite. And not just at the _idea_ of being with Adams - he bit into his neck, gently and with his mouth and blunt teeth, as he wrapped his arms around the suited man and pulled him into his crushing embrace. Vic groaned as he was squeezed tightly to Paul's body, feeling rough, dry lips and an unshaven, scratchy beard, abrasive against his neck and face - making his skin flush, making Adams _blush_ , as Paul peppered the area with quick and vulgar kisses - sucking sometimes with the intention of making a mark - just few enough to go unnoticed, but still enough to let Vic know who was in charge.

The slightly shorter of the two retorted by tugging at Gerardi's clothes - those which he so desperately desired to see removed _again_ , as he had done that _one_ time before when watching Paul shower back at their headquarters, whilst he was their prisoner. He hadn't really felt permitted to stare _that_ time - as the soap and water had dripped down his naked body - but now he could do nothing _but_ stare; _stare_ in wonderment at what was revealed of Paul as Vic lifted his shirt a tad, fingers roaming over his bare chest; _stare_ into those tired, crinkly eyes as he leaned forward into a kiss, those demanding hands now slipping around to Gerardi's back and ushering him in.

Paul gulped and then coughed slightly, his shock at Adams' tongue forcing its way into his mouth. But he was only startled for a second - Paul knew how to give as good as he got; his own tongue met with Vic's and produced, from him, a filthy moan that was worthy of being in a dirty film. Their wet, hungry tongues slid and skated around one another and, as they broke away from the kiss, Gerardi began to take off the belt which had already been removed once today and then reached down to undo his fly. Before taking things any further, he gripped Adams firmly by the waist, asserting his dominance once again.

"What the fuck _is_ this?" Paul panted.

"It's us," said Vic, raggedly breathless as he sank to his knees. "It's what we've _always_ been. From day _one_ , Paul _._ "


End file.
